


Le Morte D'Scott

by Captaindestiny



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Episode: s05e11 The Last Chimera, Hurt Scott, Hurt Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Hurt/Comfort, I'm a sucker for scott whump, Post-Episode: s05e10 Status Asthmaticus, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Scottwhump, Sorry Not Sorry, Spoilers, Teen wolf 5x11, hurt!Scott, scott McCall - Freeform, stiles stilinski - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-04 19:45:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15848127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captaindestiny/pseuds/Captaindestiny
Summary: Scott doesn't know how to tell Stiles he was killed. It's not exactly a topic that works its way naturally into conversation. But he's going to have to explain when his wounds make it impossible for him to function normally.





	Le Morte D'Scott

The elevator hummed as it ascended, dim lights doing little to illuminate the lone figure hunched against the wall. This figure, none other than Scott McCall, stared at the carpet. A notch of worry pulled his eyebrows together, a frown tugging at the corners of his lips.  
What will I find when I get there? He grimaced. A tightness squeezed at his chest that had nothing to do with the blood stain spreading over his sternum.  
The elevator bumped to a stop as it signaled its arrival, heavy doors gliding to the side to reveal a gloomy hospital hallway.  
Scott clenched his jaw as he pushed away from the wall, a sharp intake of breath hitched in his throat; pain and exhaustion pulsing through every inch of his body.  
At the end of the hall, a group of people were huddled on the other side of a pair of double doors. Stiles was among them, surrounded by doctors and nurses, melissa McCall included. Scott listened in on the conversation. A doctor was informing Stiles that there had been a complication with his dad.  
Shit… Scott hung his head. This was the result of his stupid decision. This was all his fault. He trudged to the door of a room where a heart monitor could be heard and peered through the window. Mr. Stilinski was unconscious, hooked to all kinds of machines and medicines. Scott could smell that something wasn't right. The pungent, rancid odor of infection ravaged the room, the source clearly visible. Black veins traced their way across the sheriff's body and up the side of his neck. He couldn't look away, couldn't break his gaze from his carnage.  
“Somebody needs to tell me what's happening to him!” Stiles demanded.  
Melissa sighed. “We don't know.” She sounded so defeated, so worn and tired.  
The double doors flew open, pounding the walls as Stiles barreled through them. Scott turned to look just in time for Stiles to claw at the front of his shirt and throw him against the wall. Bursts of light pulsed over his vision as Stiles then dragged him to the floor, beating his chest without restraint. Beating the injury that Scott had desperately tried to heal that morning, the injury that was still bleeding.  
“Where were you?” Stiled demanded, “You trusted him. You believed him. Right? So where were you? WHERE THE HELL WERE YOU?!?” Despite his fury, Stiles noted the lack of fight on Scott’s part. The ease in which he had subdued the alpha.  
A couple of nurses and security guards pulled Stiles up and away, holding his arms back to restrain him. A guard heaved Scott to his feet, a hand on his shoulder.  
“Ok! All right, all right...” Stiles settled enough for the nurses to release him.  
“Your dad's not the only one who got hurt.” Scott panted, trying desperately to stay upright.  
Stiles almost laughed, an enraged apathy preventing him from really caring whether Scott was ok or not. Regardless of the red patch on his shirt. Regardless of how he was swaying. Regardless of how out of breath he seemed. No, Scott was a werewolf, injuries were the least of his worries.  
“Oh, you'll heal.” He seethed.  
Scott looked down at his chest and pulled the edges of his jacket together. Of course he would heal, this was nothing compared to what Stiles was dealing with. He was fine. But that wasn't what he meant.  
“I'm not talking about me.”  
Stiles stilled, dread settling sourly in his stomach. Scott turned and trudged to the elevator, and Melissa stepped around Stiles to catch up to her son. She put an arm around his waist, Stiles noticed, and Scott leaned into her.  
Whatever, he'll be fine. He thought before following the McCalls. 

The ride was spent in silence, the only sounds were those of Scott's labored breaths and Melissa's quiet comforts. When the door opened, Stiles waited for Scott to take the lead and settled in step behind. This was a particularly grimm floor of the hospital, one for individuals who were deemed stable, but not enough so that they could return home. Not an enjoyable place to spend one's time. Scott stopped at a closed door. Placing a hand on the frame to steady himself, he motioned for Stiles to enter. A despondent shadow fell over his face. Stiles didn't wait for him to elaborate, but shouldered his way in and swiped the curtains aside.  
Mrs. Martin turned around, eyes wide with surprise. Eyes that were swollen and red-rimmed. Eyes that had let many tears fall. Stiles glanced from Mrs. Martin, and down to the bed against the wall. Lydia. Beautiful, genius, powerful Lydia. She was laid out on the bed, her head turned towards the window with eyes open and unseeing. His stomach recoiled, threatening to expel the little bit of food that he had managed to keep down. Theo had done this, he was sure of it. A pressure built in his head, a frustration that made him want throw things, rage against anyone and anything. Made him want to bring a reconing upon one werewolf in particular, a werewolf with a crooked jaw and a tendency to trust people he shouldn’t.  
Stiles knew that Theo would have needed to use Lydia for her powers. If there were punctures from his talon, he could prove it.  
Mrs. Martin shook with fury, pointing out the door. “No.” She shook her head. “No you don’t. You’re not coming in here. Get out!” Stiles held out his hand, desperate to get the words out. “Just wait, wait. I think I know who did this, ok? I just need to look at the back of her neck.”  
“I know who did this. You. All of you! Get out!” She shoved Stiles back.  
“Come on, please. You just gotta listen to me. You just gotta check the back-”  
“Just get out!” She screamed.  
“Just check the back of her-”  
“Out!” She slammed the door as he retreated and covered her face in her hands. “Oh, god…” she whispered to herself.  
Stiles stood just outside the door, resting against it for a moment. Scott was waiting for him, quiet as the grave. Hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched, he seemed so small and innocent. But that was far from the truth, Stiles pondered bitterly. Scott had the potential to cause massive damage, as he had already proved. The dead air hung between them, neither really knowing how to segue into anything resembling a conversation.  
“Where’s Melissa?” Stiles asked finally, wiping his nose.  
“She’s still working, she had some patients to see…” Scott trailed off. He looked so haggard. Whatever happened must have been bad if he still seemed so run-down. Stiles’ eyes were drawn to Scott’s chest, where the blood was peeking through his jacket.  
“Scott…” He hesitated. Did he want to know? Yes, of course he did. “What happened?”  
Scott sighed. What could he tell him? The truth? Yes, that would bode well. Stiles, I died. Liam tried to kill me, but then stopped at the last second. And then Theo showed up, and actually did kill me. This wound is from his claws when he practically gutted me. I was dead for fifteen goddamn minutes before my mom brought me back. But I’m not sure I’ll ever be the same. Oh, and Hayden is dead, too.  
Maybe that would be fine. At least he would know. Maybe Stiles could even help him navigate this ever-changing universe they all traversed. He didn’t hold out hope for that, reconciliation seemed to be the last thing on Stiles’ mind.  
Suddenly, he was overwhelmed with fatigue. The world tilted as he collapsed against the wall, his hand moving to his sodden shirt. Stiles was at his side in an instant, heart racing.  
“Scott! Scotty! What’s wrong? What’s happening?!” He shook Scott’s shoulder slightly, not wanting to jar him.  
Scott stared at Stiles, confused. His ears were ringing and he couldn’t hear what he was saying. He was so tired, he just wanted to sleep. He was cold, though. Cold and… wet? He glanced down as he unzipped his jacket. The whole front of his shirt was soaked through.  
It was official, Stiles was panicking. Very rarely had he seen Scott like this, not for anything but the gravest traumas. He was an alpha, stronger than anyone else he had ever encountered… But he knew that Scott had a habit of brushing aside his physical health so that he didn’t worry those around him. Stupid jerk. He recalled one such occasion after a battle with the alpha pack. Scott had watched Derek fall to his presumed death, and, feeling responsible, he wouldn’t allow himself to heal. He told everyone he was fine right up to the time when Allison had been forced to stitch him up with Lydia's sewing kit. Stubborn asshole. Maybe this was the same, maybe he really didn’t want to feel better. Stiles certainly didn’t mind if he was a little sore for a while after this…  
Scott jerked forward, blood spattering the floor as he coughed. No, Stiles decided. This wasn’t what he wanted. He couldn’t sit here by himself and watch Scott struggle.  
“Hold on, Scotty. I’m gonna go find your mom…” Scott peered at him through heavy eyelids. Stiles squeezed his shoulder before running down the hall, hands shaking. The anger was still there, of course. It burned through his veins and flared dangerously under the surface. But it was tame, for now. He could hold it back until Scott could take it.  
Scott watched Stiles go, guilt and shame suffocating him. I failed you, he closed his eyes, leaning his head back. I wasn’t there. I wasn’t strong enough to save the person you love most. I’m sorry.  
Every breath brought spears of agony that threatened to engulf him. He swallowed and tried to calm himself. He would heal. He was fine. He wasn’t allowed to be anything else. He was, after all, the alpha.  
Was…  
What pack did he have to be alpha of now? Liam had very nearly succeeded in killing him, he would never willingly come back. Who knew where Kira was and what she was doing. She was probably happier without having to deal with him anyway. Malia was off looking for the Desert Wolf, she didn’t need any of them anymore. And Stiles… His best friend in the world, his brother. Stiles would never forgive him. Scott’s actions had brought about the attack on Noah, and that was an unredeemable offense. One that Scott knew he would be paying for the rest of his life.  
I deserve it. If only I had listened to Stiles...

Melissa knelt down beside her son and took his face in her hands. He stirred, startled by the contact. Another fit had him doubled over, his entire frame trembling. When he settled and fell against Stiles, a black ooze dripped from his lips.  
“Oh, Scott…” Melissa rubbed a thumb over his cheek.  
“What’s… What’s wrong with him?” Stiles was almost afraid to hear the answer. Melissa glanced at him and shook her head. Not here. Stiles nodded. She was shaken, distraught. It scared him to think of what could have been the cause.  
“Help me pick him up.” She said as she pulled Scott’s right arm over her shoulder. Stiles didn’t hesitate in grabbing his other side. Scott grunted with the effort of standing, his eyes scrunched against the pain. Melissa guided them to an empty room where she and Stiles softly set him on the edge of a cot. Melissa rolled up his shirt, revealing the hand-sized laceration in the middle of his abdomen. Stiles didn’t have to time to look away, and he wasn’t prepared to to be faced with foul-looking, mutilated flesh. The anger came crashing back like a tidal wave. His eye twitched.  
“What the FUCK is that?!” He put a hand in his hip, the other raising to cradle his forehead.  
If he wasn’t in so much pain, Scott would have laughed. Stiles looked like a disgruntled housewife, sassy exasperated sigh and all.  
“I swear to god, Scott. If you don’t stop with the ‘I’m fine’ shit, I’m gonna lose my freaking mind. You know that’s not a good look on me.”  
“Alright, alright…” Scott managed to smirk.  
“I'm going to have to go and get some supplies for this,” Melissa interrupted. This was as good a time as any to let them work things out. “I'll be back.” She flew out the door, a whirlwind of protective energy.  
Scott and Stiles were left to stare at each other in the emptiness. Stiles shifted on his feet, folding his arms. A second later he unfolded them and ran them both over his head. And then he paced, back and forth in the cramped space.  
“You gotta calm down, Stiles. I'm gonna be-” He stopped himself before ‘fine’, searching for a synonym. “It's gonna be… Okay…” That wasn't much better.  
Stiles snorted, pausing in front of his not-so-best best friend. “How does anything about this situation seem okay to you, Scott? How is that,’ he pointed at Scott's chest. “going to be okay?”  
“I'll heal, I always do. You know me, I've bounced back from worse.” Liar, his subconscious whispered. He'd never been killed before. Sure, he'd died to save their parents… but he'd never been killed. This was completely foreign to him, he had no idea what to expect.  
“Tell me what happened, Scott. Don't hide it from me.”  
“Why does it matter? It's going to heal, and we're going to save your dad. You don't have to worry about it…” He paused before continuing, gathering the courage to go on. “I didn't think you'd care either way, you must be happy that I got what I deserved after not believing you…”  
Stiles’ head fell to his chest, a heavy sigh escaped. He eyed Scott, defeated. “You really think I'm happy about this? Scott, you're my brother... How could you think I wanted something like this to happen to you? I…. Yeah, I'm pissed. I'm pissed and it hurts that you didn't listen. I'm mad as hell, but… Dude, you're my family.”  
Scott looked away, tears threatening to trickle over. He was so scared. Scared and alone.  
He was silent for a few moments and gathered good thoughts. He wasn't quite sure where to begin, how to start this kind of tale. “During the super moon, Hayden got hurt, and Liam asked me to save her, to give her the bite. Her body would have rejected it, Stiles. She would have been in the most awful agony as she died… she was already dying, I couldn't make her suffer more. So, I didn't. When I refused, Liam…”  
“Liam… what?”  
“Liam got angry. Angry at Theo for being the root of our problems, angry at the world for Hayden's fate, but mostly angry at me for not biting her. The moon amplified everything, especially his strength and rage. So, he took it out on me. I'm assuming that’s what Theo wanted.”  
“What do you mean, you're telling me Liam did that?” Stiles gestured to the obvious injury. “I'm gonna kick his ass, I swear to god. Werewolf or not.”  
“Well…” Scott held his chest a little tighter. “Yes and no. He attacked me, yes… But he wasn't who-”  
Stiles frowned as Scott halted abruptly. “He didn't do what, Scott? What aren't you telling me?”  
Scott looked him straight in the eye. “He wasn't the one who killed me.”  
Stiles started dumbly, unable to fully comprehend. “Wha- killed you? What does that mean? What are you talking about?”  
“Liam almost killed me, he was so close. But Mason found us before he managed it. He told Liam that Hayden was gone, and Liam stopped. Liam ran off, and Mason helped me up. We were only a couple steps away when Theo came in. He was mad that Liam hadn't finished. He knocked Mason out, threw him across the room… And then he came for me. I was already hurt and worn out, and I didn't have the energy to fight him when he ripped into me. He killed me. He tore me up and left me there. I guess my mom found Mason and I, and she somehow brought me back. They told me I was gone for over fifteen minutes…”  
There it was. The truth. It was out, for better or worse. Stiles just stared, horrified. No words seemed adequate enough to convey his feelings. He shuffled to the bed and slid up beside Scott.  
“You were dead?” Was all he managed to whisper.  
Scott settled an arm around his friend. “Was. I was dead. I'm still here, you've still got me. You don't have to worry about me going anywhere, Stiles.”  
Stiles glared at him. Of course he had reason to worry! His best friend had been killed, and he didn't even know! Somehow, that hurt worse than the betrayal. Scott had died, his heart stopped and hadn’t been beating for a quarter of an hour, and he had been left out of the loop.  
But… Why would he tell him? The two of them fought beforehand, Scott thought Stiles was so irreparably angry that he wouldn't care what happened to him.  
Oh Scotty… You and your self-sacrificing, borderline-depressed attitude…  
His face softened as he reached over and pulled Scott into a gentle, tentative hug.  
“I'm always gonna worry about you, Scott. It's my job.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Teen Wolf fanfic, so I would absolutely love to get some feedback! Thanks so much for reading!


End file.
